


Blood, Sweat & Tears

by mellodramatica



Category: The Iliad - Homer, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: BoyxBoy, Gay, Greek myth - Freeform, Iliad, Lemon, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 08:17:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11596662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellodramatica/pseuds/mellodramatica
Summary: Kiss me, it doesn’t matter if it hurts, make it tighter,so that it can’t even hurt anymore.Baby it’s okay to get drunk, now I drink youdeep into my throat, the whisky that is you.





	Blood, Sweat & Tears

“Patroclus. Patroclus..”

The brown-haired boy awoke slowly from the limb-loosening sleep, initially believing the words were part of a dream. But when he reached wakefulness, he heard the same whispered voice again; “Patroclus..” A soft finger was placed on his arm, slowly tracing its way down. Patroclus was on his side, back facing towards the owner of this voice; Achilles, blonde, fair and strong. He slowly turned around to face his golden-haired companion, who smiled when he saw he had awoken. “There you are, my Patroclus..”

There was something about the way he said his name, as if it was his very favorite thing to do, that gave Patroclus shivers down his spine over and over again; now that he had preceded it with my, it was even better. Patroclus felt his cheeks grow hot, and he gazed at his partner, slightly sleepily yet filled with desire. Achilles didn’t stretch things. He moved his hand upwards, sliding his fingers across the other’s body, his neck, into his dark brown hair, his movements executed in utter control. Patroclus closed his eyes and moved closer as if naturally, meeting Achilles’ soft lips halfway. Their kisses were like fighting fire with fire; they collide, hot and hot, and as two flames make one, they grow and grow, to become a raging inferno only satisfied after every possible thing has burned down. Patroclus drank the sweet breath of Achilles - the faint taste of the honey and figs they had for desert still on it - as if it was his one source of life, and Achilles did the same to him, their warm bodies pressing against one another. Though it was slow and controlled at first, it soon became needy and hot. Achilles caught Patroclus’ bottom lip between his teeth, earning him a soft moan; they feared Chiron would hear them, but the centaur was always fast asleep in the other room.

There was never enough kissing between these two, but there was more to be done. Achilles pushed Patroclus down on the bed and caged him in between his arms as he leaned over him, and he smirked down at him in the way only he, _aristos achaion_ , could smirk at his own boyfriend, before leaning down and kissing his neck. Patroclus, his eyes only half-opened to look at him, threw his head back to give him more space, which was dearly put to use. Tongue, teeth and lips made their way up, to his ever so sensitive earlobe and the little dent behind it, or down, to caress the crook of his neck; all he could do was slightly open his mouth and exhale heavily - almost like he so often did after racing Achilles, but not quite - and wrap his arms around his companion even tighter. This was a different kind of race, though it left them just as breathless. This was a slow race, one that was to be stretched, like a rubber band until it snapped, to then explode into a million galaxies. It was Patroclus´ favorite race, because this was the only one where neither of them lost and both of them won.

Achilles’ lips moved downwards to olive-skinned collarbones, but he was sure not to leave any bruises; in this area, Chiron wouldn’t take it as ‘just playing outside’. There were other spots, he knew, where this would work.. He slid his gentle fingers down Patroclus’ chest, abdomen, thighs, carefully avoiding just that one spot - _patience, Patroclus_ \- and enjoying the subtle responses he was given. The boy beneath him seemed to blossom, like flowers in spring, opening up to the sunlight that was Achilles.

Achilles stopped and looked down at Patroclus, less than an inch between their noses. “Good to see you awake and alive, my _philtatos_ ,” he whispered, and in a reply, Patroclus smirked at him and ruffled his hair with his hand.   
“I will always awaken for you.”   
“Good to know, _ho erastes mou_.” And at the goosebump-giving words, Patroclus closed his eyes and leaned his head backwards, his hands loosely around the neck of Achilles, who brought his caressing lips downward. The men only ate what they needed to, only from the nature around them, and because they were always busy, even Patroclus had become toned over time. His soft, brown skin now sloped over the soft curves of muscle, and though those of Achilles were even more distinct, he sweetly admired the body of his beloved. He moved backwards and slid his hands all the way down Patroclus’ legs, reaching his feet, of which he grabbed the left and kissed it gently. Patroclus, in an attempt to see what he was doing, leaned upward on his elbows, but Achilles laid his hand on his chest and pushed him back down, placed his index finger onto the other’s lips, and went to work. He raised the foot, slightly calloused skin interchanged by a softer type on the areas that weren’t walked on, and kissed the arch; Patroclus smiled, he was ticklish, and the actions of Achilles were both making him laugh and want more. Achilles kissed his ankle, his instep, yes, even the tendon of his heel, then slid his lips all along Patroclus’ inner leg slow yet fast enough, stopping at his inner thigh. He laid the leg on his shoulder and bit into the soft flesh, sliding his teeth against it, sucking it in, letting his tongue dance over it. Several areas were treated this way, and the fact winter was coming was for the better; Chiron wouldn’t notice the soft, dark bruises that were forming on Patroclus’ skin here. But Patroclus wasn’t thinking about that; he moaned, eyes closed and mouth open. “Nnnh - Achilles..” 

The moan became a whimper when Achilles’ warm tongue slid along the length of his manhood, quite soon yet just on time. Reaching the tip, the blonde let his tongue play all over the sensitive skin like a personal playground, and Patroclus wrapped his other leg around his partner’s face - _and once he has his thighs around you, you forget your own name_ was the thought that ran through Achilles’ mind, an echo of what one of the boys in the palace once said about a maid, only now, the sentence was about a male. He moaned as he took Patroclus’ entire length in his mouth, and earned a moan in return. As he continued, intensifying his actions and looking up at his partner playfully, the brown-haired boy relaxed his neck and let his head drop backwards, his mouth slightly hanging open. Smirking at the sight of it, Achilles kept pleasuring his lover, just until said was about to reach his climax. Then, he slowed down, leaned closer to Patroclus’ face, softly grasping his chin between thumb and index finger to make him look up. “You want it?” Achilles whispered, an oh so horribly playful grin on his features. Patroclus made a face, which was slightly watered down by his ecstasy, and grumbled “I do.”   
“Don’t be mean,” He pulled his hands away entirely, “Or you shall get nothing at all.”   
“Oh you’re the devil, Pelides,” Patroclus hissed. “Fine. Please, erastes mou?” He spoke the last words in a pleading way, adding in a little pout and a tilt of the head for a more effect. It worked; Achilles, strongest of the Greeks, would fall for that face anytime. With a slight grin he moved back down and slid his tongue all along Patroclus' manhood, before taking the tip between his soft, moist lips and sliding them down over it until they covered it fully once again. Patroclus moaned deeply now - the thought of Chiron waking up from it barely present in their minds - and Achilles reacted, taking his lover in as deep as possible and now working his hardest to provide him maximum pleasure. Closer, ever closer did Patroclus come to the edge, blurs of colors and light flashing in this closed eyes, one hand in his own hair and the other in that of Achilles, his legs wrapped around him, panting with his mouth now hopelessly open - until he finally reached the edge and spilled over it in a hail of stars.   
"Ah-Achilles!" He breathed a second in, the waves still coming but quickly growing weaker. "Nnn....."   
Achilles swallowed it - where else would it be left? - and when the last tingles had faded, he removed his tongue from the head of Patroclus' length, slowly but eventually breaking the small line of saliva still connecting them. He sat back up and looked at the other, gently rubbing his thighs and smirking at him. "By the gods, you look so good." Patroclus opened his eyes halfway, his slender fingers still between his wild curls and his head still tilted slightly backwards; a thin layer of transpiration had built up on his chest and forehead, making him glow softly in the light of the quartz ceiling. "And by the gods are you a gift, Achilles," he replied.   
"A gift?" Achilles recited, leaning back down onto his lover. "Please, erastes... Unwrap me, then."   
There was no need to ask twice; Patroclus got up and it was now his turn to push his lover down onto the bed; he grinned with utter content at the fact he was going to make this hero, the best of the Greeks, wither at his very touch. He leaned in to the crook of his lover's neck and softly slid his lips against the skin, before opening his mouth and tasting the gentle sweetness. Achilles moved his hands into Patroclus' hair and closed his eyes as his lover worked on him, honored him like he was a god, worshipped the temple that was his body, lips ever making their way down it and teeth gently clutching every sensitive spot on it. It was his turn to flower, to grow and blossom and open up to the sun above him, to bathe in the soft touches of the light. He threw his head back slightly and his lips parted, a slightly hesitant moan escaping through them. After some time - but not too much - Patroclus finally arrived at his lower abdomen, but Achilles groaned slightly as he then moved even lower, to his pale thighs, and tended to them for a moment. However, he knew patience was the key with his lover - and surely, after not too long of the torture he finally felt Patroclus' soft lips on his sex. He threw his mouth open slightly more and, though he was trying to hold back a moan, he failed miserably when his man slid his warm, wet tongue over the head. He gripped the brown curls a little tighter as he wrapped his legs around the owner and practically pushed him into his groin, which the other did not mind. He took it into his mouth as much as he could, and Achilles, already having been aroused for a very long time, felt his body react instantly; his hips bucked, he clenched his strong, quick muscles, a hopeless moan escaped his lips as he practically quivered at the very much needed affection. Thoroughly pleased by this kind of reaction, Patroclus threw him a sideways grin and got to work. And it was his favorite job. His very favorite past-time. This was the only time he was stronger than Achilles - the only time he, a simple young man, could have the strongest warrior of the Greeks at his mercy - and he knew, a thought that always made him either smile happily or grin naughtily, that he was the only person on earth with this power. The power to bring _aristos achaion_ to his knees, begging him for more, craving his touch. Beneath him Achilles was now whimpering, his voice breaking as he moaned once again. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest, could hear the half-divine blood rushing through his ears. His movements and moans were uncontrolled as he felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge. He wanted it so bad, wanted it now, the final release of this almost agonizing feeling. "P-Patroclus, by the g-gods..!" He breathed, and a second later he finally spilled over that blissful edge, his mind going completely blank as he arched his back. He couldn't even help himself as he, still clutching Patroclus' hair, forced his head down onto his manhood, his legs closing in around his boyfriend with the force of a boa constrictor. But the darker boy didn't mind; he knew Achilles, knew this would happen, had experienced it many times before and loved the reaction dearly. He swallowed all of Achilles' load and moaned back at him, making his throat vibrate while his boyfriend was still deep inside it. This earned him another uncontrolled moan, but after that, as the orgasm wore off, the moaning went to heavy breathing and after another minute finally slowed down to a regular tempo. By then, Patroclus had already removed his mouth from Achilles and was lying with his head on the blonde man's chest, eyes closed as he listened to his heartbeat slow down. When that too reached a normal pace, he looked up and ran a hand through Achilles' hair, causing him to open his eyes halfway and give him an exhausted look. "Come, let us lay back with our heads on the right end of the bed, my lover." And so Achilles moved along with him, until they were finally cuddled up against each other beneath the glimmering of the crystals in the cave. But they only looked at each other, foreheads and noses against each other as they stared into their own lover's eyes, until they gave each other one last kiss and finally both dozed off when Hypnos carried them away to unconsciousness.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, please leave a kudo and perhaps a comment, I really appreciate those :)


End file.
